


Burning Up

by BrainyZapps



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst with a Happy Ending, Episode: s04e02 The Lying Detective, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, John Watson Whump, Just something I thought about and I'm going with it, Not A Fix-It, Sherlock Whump, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 00:48:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10628673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrainyZapps/pseuds/BrainyZapps
Summary: What if John had noticed something else while examining Sherlock's arms during "The Lying Detective"





	

**Author's Note:**

> Moffitt, Gatiss, and Doyle have the rights, none of the characters are mine.
> 
> Story picks up when John is trying to figure out how Sherlock knew to come to this particular therapist's house. It is the same as the show in the beginning.

“How did you know? How? On Monday I decided to get a new therapist. Tuesday afternoon I chose her. Wednesday morning I booked today’s session. Now today is Friday, so two weeks ago, two weeks before you were abducted at gun point and brought here against your will; over a week before I even knew to come here, you knew exactly where you would need to be picked up for lunch?” John, exasperated and voice rising throughout, questioned.

Sherlock, recovered from his startlement at John’s sudden harsh interrogation, answered saying, “Really? I correctly anticipated the responses of people I know well to scenarios I devised. Can’t everyone do that?”

“How?” Mrs. Hudson cut in.

“Except the boot. The boot was mean.” Sherlock went on.

“Never mind how, he’s dying to tell us that, I want to know why.” John demanded.

Sherlock looked sad and he replied, “Because Mrs. Hudson’s right. I’m burning up. I’m at the bottom of a pit and still falling and I’m never climbing out.” Sherlock’s countenance lifted with determination and false hope, “But I need you to know John, I need you to see that up here” Sherlock gestures to his head, “I’ve still got it.” He stands and walks over to the computer and points to Smith, “So while I tell you this is the most dangerous, the most despicable human being that I have ever encountered, while I tell you that this monster must be ended, please remember you are standing because you are standing exactly where I said two weeks ago” Sherlock begged, sitting back down next to the computer.

Sherlock defeatedly admits, “I’m a mess, I’m in hell, but I’m not wrong, not about him.” He points to Smith.  
John walks over and questions “So what’s all this got to do with me?”

The sleuth answers with disgust, “That creature, that rotting thing is a living breathing coagulation of human evil. If the only thing I do in this world is drag him out of it my life will not have been wasted.”

John looks at him skeptically so Sherlock continues begging, “Look at me! I can’t do it, not now. Not alone.” He looks like he’s about to give up. 

John mumbles “Alright.” And extends a hand. Sherlock stands and reaches for it. When their hands joined, John pulls up Sherlock’s sleeve and examines his forearm. He sees the track marks and sighs, “Yeah, well they’re real enough I suppo” John stops suddenly as he noticed something. Sherlock’s wrists had abrasions around them, but they weren’t new. They were scars. Immediately with wide concerned eyes he looked up at his best friend’s face and really looked for the first time. Sherlock’s eyes were red and marked with unrest. His friend had completely given up on a presentable appearance. He was no longer the confident, sharp, and energetic young man, among other things, John knew him to be. Sherlock looked tired, and not the lack of sleep tired, but the tired you get from being done. I’m at the bottom of a pit and still falling. John realized his friend was broken.

Sherlock was looking away from the doctor, he didn’t want to see what John was thinking. “Sherlock” John whispered unsurely, “What are these?”

Sherlock turned his gaze to where John was looking. Sherlock ripped his hands back. How could he have forgotten? John wasn’t supposed to see his scars. He had been doing so well at hiding them, knowing how much it would hurt John if he knew how much had happened. John was already so broken down, and it was his fault. He didn’t need to put another burden on his friend’s shoulders. 

“It’s nothing. Obviously you aren’t going to help me since you’re still busy tending to your ‘emotions' so I’ll just get going. I do have an appointment with a serial killer and punctuality is everything. Maybe you’ll see me later, maybe you won’t. Good bye John.” Sherlock defended turning away. He tried to get John mad enough that he would just let him go. 

John caught his arm and spun him around again.  
“No, don’t stop talking to me now. I am not going to stand here while you go gallivanting off to go play hide and seek without me, without telling me anything again!” John shouted. 

Sherlock was angry now and he shouted back, “Hide and seek? Is that what you think it was. I’ll have you know that I have been through much more pain than you think. You are clearly the most incompetent, selfish, and useless doctor in the world! How could I ever think that you would be be good enough to be my friend and companion?"

John raise his eyebrows, voice still steaming, “Oh really? Did you get a few bumps and bruises? Did you miss your mummy and daddy. How could you Sherlock? How could you leave us thinking you were dead? I missed you so much, I hated you because you died. I hated you when you came back because you made me go through all of that pain. For a little while there I went down a dark road, a road that you had saved me from when I met you. Then you had to undo all of it! I had forgiven you for that but you broke that when you killed my wife! You are the most dangerous, most despicable human being I have ever encountered Sherlock Holmes! After all that torture I went through for you!” 

Sherlock lost his composure. His walls came tumbling down and he ripped off his shirt, revealing just how much he had gone through. “Look at all the torture I went through for you!” he shouted.

The air seemed to be sucked out of the room when both men knew what they had done to the other. They had never meant a word. They both realized the other was just as broken as they were. 

John looked at Sherlock’s scars. His back was not recognizable. Deep whip scars littered that pale back. Sherlock had also been burned. His right shoulder blade had the marred skin that came with being burned by a blow torch. He also had many cigarette burns that dotted his body. Sherlock had been beaten, stabbed, cut, burned, and whipped. The scars went past his hips. John realized that his best friend had been tortured.

Sherlock looked at John. John looked like he had given up. His movements were slow and sad. John was no longer the energetic soldier Sherlock had the pleasure of knowing. His limp was back. His eyes were sad and his bags were deep. He hadn’t slept in a long time. Sherlock could tell that John had been seeing things, probably Mary, and that he was worried about his daughter. John loved his daughter but he couldn’t be there for her. Not when she reminded him of what he lost. He also realized that John had implied he considered killing himself while he was away. Sherlock realized his best friend had been tortured.

Both men felt at fault for the other’s tribulations.

With tears in his eyes, John carefully asked, “Sherlock.  
How long after you were treated did I see you?” 

Sherlock sighed, “Mycroft rescued me and his doctors patched me up. I came home 3 days after that.”  
John rubbed his eyes, “Jesus. And you let me attack you while you were still healing?”

“I deserved it. I put you through so much and I knew it. I needed, you needed, you to be mad at me. Needed you to let your anger out. There was just so much to do and it was easier to do that than having to face what I had gone through.” Sherlock’s voice choked. “I needed you so I was selfish and came back, and I still need you. Without you I wouldn’t have gotten away from my two years away alive. You have saved my life so many times and so many ways and look at how I repaid you. I am so sorry.”

“Oh Sherlock. I am an awful friend and an even worse  
doctor. How could I have not noticed? You were the one who save me first. You cured my limp after a day of dragging me along out on your adventures. You saved your friends and I don’t know everything that happened to you, but I do know that your two years away were not easy for you. I have treated you horribly and I never realized you needed help. You didn’t kill Mary. She died saving your life and there was nothing you could do about that. I shouldn’t have done the things I did. I am so sorry.”

The two broken boys fell into each other and cried on the other’s shoulders. They were broken and they knew it, and they had to work up to earning and giving forgiveness, but now they knew it was going to be okay. It is what it is and they would learn to accept that and make it better. 

The end.

**Author's Note:**

> Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you enjoyed the story. Sorry, I know it's really short. I am totally up for suggestions and ideas of your own, so don't be afraid to share. This is technically my first I have ever written, and while I had envisioned something different in my head, I couldn't put it in words. Practice makes perfect though right?


End file.
